Honestum Mendax
by Hel Opacare
Summary: Memories, they have a way of deceiving us. Changing people into things they were never meant to become; corrupting minds; blackening hearts; hardening souls. And sometimes they can not be forgotten...nor forgiven.
1. Chapter 1

**So I begin the story, you begin to read, and I hastily make LONG updates. **

**It can be a frightening experience, turning from being simply a reader, to becoming the writer... Ah well if we didn't do something scary at least once in our lives, we wouldn't be living. Not truly. **

**Sorry, right rambling :) This will hopefully be a long story (I'm aiming for at least 30 short chapters, or 15 long ones... it would be nice if they were longer but seeing as I'm behind in a lot, they will probably be on the shorter side). **

**I'm also working on another story (not posted... yet) so i'm gonna be switching between the two. **

**Anyway, on with the prologue!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything except my OC's and the main plot.**

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**_You were standing in the wake of devastation,_**

**_and you were waiting on the edge of the unknown._**

**_And with the cataclysm raining down, _**

**_insides crying "Save me now",_**

**_you were there, impossibly alone..._**

**_-Linkin Park, 'Iridescent'_**

* * *

There are the brave, fearless ones who embrace pain and grief as long as they hold the memory of their loss. And then, there are the selfish, broken ones, who only think about the things they have lost, and in doing so, forget to honor the memory.

Do not think that there is an absolute line separating the two. In fact, the line – if there is one – would be quite smeared and hazy; like smoke.

x**x**X**X**X**x**x

She had never wanted to be a hero.

Even when she sparred with the other young dwarfs, or played games with the human children in the city just outside her own. While they made battles and fought over who was to be the king or hero, she became the loyal friend, or maiden in danger.

However, she was – albeit unknowingly – manipulating the odds in favor of whoever she was with.

So, she would pick a side; the side that always won. And she wouldn't mention her involvement, letting the hero get all the recognition while she faded to the background.

Yes, she was a person that anyone who could see her skill would want on their side.

Whether they were good, or evil.

Thurineth Malrin had always liked fighting with the other boys, even if she wasn't the best with swords, she had quickly learned that a quick tongue could win just as many fights.

Most people make webs of lies that, while having an advantage, could easily be broken. She, told the blunt, cold, and honest truth; lying only when absolutely needed. Because she learned that nobody would second guess something an honest person said.

Perhaps it was this fact that caused her to become entangled with the story of the One Ring.

xXx

Thorin let his eyes drift over the burning trees. The screams of the fleeing dwarfs, men, and women, fell on deaf ears. Their homes were lost.

He took in a shaky breath as he watched the flames reach up and kiss the starry sky. Smoke rose to cloak the moon in shadow.

He cursed the elves, cursed the dragon that had caused them to run, but most of all he cursed the gold.

Thorin's head snapped up as a frightened yell reached his ears, and his eyes locked with dark amber ones. He knew then that he wouldn't be seeing them again. Fear was etched into every line on her face as the fire flared up in front of her; blocking her path. Her long hair flew about her face like a bloody banner, as she mouthed one word, _'Go'. _

So, with one glance back at her, he began the long trek that would lead him across all of Middle-Earth.

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**So, any opinions or suggestions would be fantastic! This is mostly just an introductory/prologue chapter. Most of the chapters will hit somewhere around 2,000-5,000 words. Please tell me what you think! Also, there will be some romance, but not much, so write any pairings you'd like to see. **

**-Hel **


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello there my friends! **

**So I finally got off the phone with my editor/adviser (aka my wonderful dad who used to teach English) and am now doing a final read over while I drink hot chocolate, courtesy of my mum. Hope you all enjoy this... even if I think it should have been split into two chapters. **

**Thank you _Lae_ for reviewing! Now...On with the story!**

**I own nothing but my OC's and the plot**

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_**You see her when you close your eyes**_

_**Maybe one day you'll understand why**_

_**everything you touch surely dies**_

_**\- Passenger 'Let her Go'**_

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TA 2770

Thorin had never felt quite as empty as he did in that moment. No more laughter would ring out like bells in the wind, no more smiles would come that brightened every hall. Her golden eyes would never open to see the light again, and her long hair would never again dance like the flames.

Thorin had lost many things in his life, but he never expected to lose his best friend, cousin, and shining jewel. It was unfair, that one so innocent should lose their life so early. Malrin had come from the Iron Hills to live with Thorin's family, and had stayed with them for forty years. Thorin, being only a year older, had initially ignored her for fear of her becoming more loved than he. However, Malrin was persistent in seeking his friendship and after a year, they had become inseparable.

Malrin had only left Erebor for her homeland once, returning quite distressed and sad. Thorin remembered his confusion over seeing the always optimistic and happy girl crying. It wasn't until later that he learned the reason for her mood. Her mother was not – as everyone had believed – Nàin's wife. Rather she had been a royal elf from Lothlorien.

Thorin took in a shuddering breath as he watched the other refugees make their way towards the Blue Mountains. He unknowingly kept searching for a face that was not there, and a smile that would never grace the world with its presence again.

xXx

TA 2941

A frustrated growl escaped Thorin's lips as he was thrown into the last prison cell. Thranduil had been a gracious host, for an elf, but as Thorin refused to answer, he grew tired of the game. The walls were cold, and the only light came through a small window in the door. Thorin frowned as he heard the elves begin talking as they walked away,

"Does the Lady of Fire know of this? I doubt she would want her kin to be treated as such,"

"Our king would have told the _dwarf_," the other elf responded disdainfully, "that he is here, whether she will communicate with him or not is up to her."

The crease between Thorin's eyebrows deepened, and he grabbed the bars of his cell, and hoisted himself up so he could see the elves.

"Who is this? I know nothing of a Lady of Fire, how could she know me?" he demanded while one elf turned and looked at him,

"You would not know of the Lady of Fire, she goes by many names, but her you do know."

Thorin cursed under his breath, "Elves and their cursed riddles!" his voice grew and he found himself just as angry with them as he had been with Thranduil, "You jest! No dwarf would ever come willingly to the halls of Thranduil." His words were bitter and broken, and the two elves shared looks of sorrow and bowed their heads slightly, before turning and walking down the narrow path.

Thorin groaned and retreated to the corner where a small cot sat. Sitting he rested his head in the palms of his hands. He had failed the company, he had failed the line of Durin. Was that all he was capable of? Failure? All he could remember was failing; failing Malrin and watching her die, failing his father and grandfather by not killing Azog, and now failing the company of dwarves he had come to cherish as family.

The next days were long, and the rock walls of his prison, cold. How fitting, that the King Under the Mountain should die in stone that was not his, and be forgotten in a place he did not belong.

It seemed the only rays of hope rested on the Hobbit, or the Lady of Fire. But the longer Thorin stayed in his cell, the more his hope left him. He knew next to nothing of the mysterious Lady of Fire, or as some called her, 'The Lone Lady of Fire' the tittles seemed interchangeable. She supposedly lived in Lake-Town, and had for the past ten years, and had once traveled to the Grey Mountains. That was all the information he had been able to glean from the elves, and it seemed that was all they knew.

A loud knock resounded on the door and Thorin rolled his eyes, "You do not need my permission to enter, seeing as I am your prisoner, and have nothing to do."

The door creaked open and a tall blonde elf stepped in. He inclined his head ever so slightly, "Forgive me, I did not wish to bother any thoughts with my interruption."

Thorin nodded towards the other end of the cot, he had not risen, a fact that did not escape the elf's attention.

"I am Legolas, the guards told me of your interest in The Lady of Fire, and I have come to answer what I can." the blonde said as he sat as far away as possible from the dwarf. "Very few elves in Mirkwood know her well, but some know little things, such as the things you have heard."

Thorin blinked once to make sure he wasn't hearing things, "Why would your King wish to have me informed of someone that would potentially help me?"

"Because she is coming, here, and my father does not want you to be completely ignorant when you talk to her, plus you will get no aid from her," the elf smirked and settled back against the wall, "She is not thwarted by you being her rightful king."

A frown spread across the dwarven king's face, as he thought of a suitable question that would give him answers. The elf Legolas was baiting him, but anyone who traveled of their own will to the Grey Mountains was either very brave, foolish, or had a death wish. Somehow Thorin knew it was the first, rather than the latter that held true for the dwarven Lady.

"Your father? Oh, never mind, what is her name? I doubt calling her Lady of Fire, on our first meeting will make her very fond of me."

The blonde let his eyes close, "Our Lady has many names, only those who know her well learn of the true one. I assure you, she will not kill you for asking." Thorin sighed, this was not going to be easy, so far he had only confirmed things he had known before.

"Describe what she looks like," he had not realized that he had demanded rather than questioned until the elf gave a slight laugh.

"You are far to used to being the one in control," Legolas said with a small smirk, "She has hair the color of crimson, and eyes so brown they look black. That is all I can say of her looks, you will find out the rest when you meet her."

Thorin stared down at his hands – _hair the color of blood flying around a face lit with fire, a face full of terror and eyes shining wet with tears. A scream of pain escaping wine colored lips as the flames swallowed the figure whole in their fiery grasp. _\- as he fought back the memories, Malrin had died, no point in wishing for that which could never be.

"She lives in Lake-Town? Why?" he finally managed to say as he intently studied his calloused hands; anything to stop the memories.

The elf was silent for a long while, and Thorin almost thought he wouldn't answer, "She lives in Lake-Town because she has children and a home there... Are you alright? I can leave if you wish." Legolas stated softly, and Thorin was startled to realize the elf had been watching him with a worried expression.

"Since when did elves care about the welfare of dwarves?" he spat, "and what kind of wife leaves her children for the Grey Mountains?"

Legolas bowed his head, "I will not deny that we dislike your race, I was simply asking if you wanted to be alone." he paused, and seeming to make up his mind continued, "Our Lady is not married, as of yet. The children are not her own, she had become close to their father and ended up taking care of them."

Thorin's thick eyebrows rose slightly, "she lives with a man she is not married to?"

The blonde elf smirked and looked up at Thorin, "Indeed. However I believe a marriage isn't to far off." The dwarf cringed and closed his eyes, this lady defied every dwarven custom.

"Your Lady sounds nothing like anyone I know. Why are your people saying I know her?"

"You know her, although you know of a different one than the one we know." Legolas responded as he stood, "I must go, Our Lady will arrive in three days, prepare as best you can...And your company will get to meet her as well." With that the elf left the prison and the door shut softly behind him.

xXx

Thorin was sitting quietly in the corner as he sorted out his thoughts – He had the feeling that if he did not show the utmost of respect to the elves' Lady, he would never again see the light of day – when a small voice whispered through the door, "Thorin?"

"Bilbo Baggins, you are full of surprises." The dwarven king said, as he stood and walked over to the door of his prison. The soft clinking of metal on metal sounded through the wood, and the door opened to reveal a smiling Hobbit. Golden curls slightly rumpled, but otherwise looking quite proud.

"Yes yes, come on, I've got everyone else out. Be quiet and follow me." Bilbo said as he walked up the walkway, twelve dwarves, plus Thorin, following behind. A smirk played at Thorin's lips as the Hobbit grimaced every time one of the dwarves made noise. Soon they arrived in a room that appeared to be a wine cellar, and Bilbo motioned to the empty barrels.

The twelve other dwarves frowned and Thorin raised his eyebrow as the hobbit started pulling and pushing the dwarves into the barrels. "Get in!" the sweating burglar squeaked to Bombur who was tasting wine from the taps. The fat dwarf looked at the hobbit and grumbled to himself as he was hoisted into a barrel by a very flustered hobbit and Bofur.

By the time all the dwarves were safely in barrels, sounds of running feet and shouted alarms reached their ears from the elves above. They had been found out. Bilbo jumped and began to pull a large lever.

"Hold your breath!" he yelled as the floor tipped to the side and all thirteen barreled dwarves rolled down into water with loud splashes.

Thorin shook his head to rid the water from his hair, and his eyes widened as he saw his burglar fall down through the hole into the water; without a barrel. The small hobbit surfaced and spluttered as he neared the empty barrel. Only when Bilbo was safely on his temporary boat, did Thorin release a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.

It was also this moment that he realized he wouldn't get to meet The Lady of Fire. It was both a blessing and a curse; blessing because he wouldn't have to face someone who could be an enemy; curse because there was a chance she could have aided them, and he was curious, although he didn't want to admit it.

xXx

Thorin let out a frustrated groan as he watched Kili set his wound. The arrow had been taken out, and now he was bleeding profusely. The Orcs had taken everyone by surprise, and when the blonde elf Thorin had talked to – Legolas – and another elf with red hair fought them back, the company had made it out and landed on the shore. Not another minute could be spent waiting. That many orcs couldn't be stopped by two elves, no matter how experienced they were.

The other dwarves slowly became silent and Thorin looked up to the higher rocks. There stood a man, armed with a bow, which was drawn and aimed at Dwalin. When the burly dwarf raised a large stick to attack this new danger, an arrow flew and landed neatly in the center. Out of the corner of his eye Thorin saw Kili raise a stone to throw, which was promptly shot out of his hand.

The man spoke to them but Thorin paid no attention as Balin stepped forward and began talking to the man. After several long minutes, the company of fourteen found themselves on a barge. Ice floated on the water, and a thick, white fog hung in the air. The dwarves were tense and kept grumbling as the man maneuvered them though the dark water towards a guard post ahead.

Thorin glared at the man – Bard according to Bilbo – as he told them to get into the barrels. Bilbo kept voicing his actions, and after a minute, large, raw, smelly fish were dumped on their heads. Thorin cursed under his breath and covered his mouth and nose with his hand. More voices were heard and Thorin tensed as some fish fell into the water with a quiet _plunk_ before the barrel was righted again and they continued on. When they finally got out of the barrels, and off the boat, Thorin had almost passed out from the smell of the fish.

As the dwarves climbed into the house through the toilet, Thorin absentmindedly thought that staying with the elves was far less degrading. Before the dwarven king could get very far into the house, his curiosity was heightened as young girl who couldn't have been more than eleven, tugged on her father's sleeve and Bard bent down as she whispered into his ear. Whatever she said must have worried the man, because after that he kept frowning and staring at them.

By nightfall, the man must have become inpatient with the dwarves refusal to tell him what they were truly doing; for Thorin found himself being cornered into a conversation. The room had emptied of people, and Thorin had been sitting at the table thinking out what they would need. Bard sat and stared at him with a uncertain gaze.

"Why are you really here?" Bard asked after the silence had dragged on into the territory of uncomfortable.

Thorin knew the truth would never work but he needed something that would make sense, so after thinking through the possibilities he spoke, "One of my kin is in Lake-Town. I simply wished to visit her."

Bard's eyebrows knitted together and he stared at the fire, "You missed her, she was heading for Mirkwood..." His gaze turned back to Thorin, "Which is where you came from."

Thorin let out a long sigh, "I suppose she isn't coming back anytime soon." A soft laugh escaped the bowman,

"Actually she is on her way back now. She's maybe a three hour ride away." said the man with a small smile. Thorin cringed, this was not how it was supposed to be.

"Ah, you know her well then?" he asked as he began studying the man in a new light.

"Why else would I have a spare room? This house is not big enough for many people to stay in, and Lake-Town is not exactly a ideal location to visit. Yes I know her well."

Thorin frowned and stood, "I see, forgive me, it has been a long day." He said as he walked out, and into the room his friends were now sitting in, the room he had just found belonged to the person that had aroused so many questions in his mind.

The rest of his company was getting ready to leave for the weaponry, and Thorin bolted the door shut as they climbed out of the window. The wooden walkways creaked and swayed slightly as they made their way towards the land where the weaponry was held.

xXx

A curse escaped Thorin's lips as they were led to the Master's house. Kili had fallen and given away their presence. A crowd had gathered and Thorin frowned as the doors were opened wide and three figures emerged, a large fat man with gold on his stubby fingers stood in the center; a greasy haired man dressed in black stood next to him on the right; and to the left, a shoulder-high figure cloaked in dark green stood in the shadows.

The Master cast an unsure glance towards the shorter figure, and they in return merely crossed their arms. Thorin stepped forward and began to explain the quest, he smiled as the crowd started talking amongst themselves, and small cheers went up. Until Bard, curse his name, stepped forward,

"If you do this you bring fire on us all," he turned towards the crowd that was now looking fearful, "Do none of you remember the fires that consumed Dale? If these dwarves go, they will unleash a dragon on us!" his voice had risen and Thorin watched with growing anger as the crowds cast sorrowful expressions to the mountain – his mountain.

The dwarf turned to the Master who was eying him, "What say you? The Master of this town?" Thorin demanded.

"I say unto you... Welcome!" The Master exclaimed as he turned, and was about to renter the building. Thorin's eyes narrowed as the shadowed figure grasped the fat man's upper arm and seemed to speak to him. The Master smirked at the cloaked person and pulled away into the building. The figure shook their head and walked off into the crowd. Meanwhile the greasy haired man had turned and addressed the dwarves and hobbit,

"A house will be prepared for you, Bard will lead you there."

Thorin frowned and looked for the man who had opposed him. There in the shadows he stood. He was not alone. The same cloaked figure stood next to him and was obviously upset as their movements were jerky. The pair paused as the man heard his name, the bowman looked over at Thorin and his eyes narrowed, while the other simply seemed to deflate.

The bowman walked towards them, and his companion vanished into an alley. "You know exactly what this will bring on us, do not think I will forgive it." his eyes were hard and he motioned for them to follow him down the road.

The buildings here were much more lavish and sturdy looking, and after about thirty minutes of walking, the man stopped in front of a house that was possibly the finest. Thorin could see many dark alleys leading away from the house, and he could only imagine the twists of the maze-like streets.

"This is where you will be staying... and this is also where I will leave you." Bard turned and walked past them into one of the dark winding abysses.

Fili was the first to enter the house and he bounced up the stairs before coming back down and exclaiming that there was a room for everyone.

Thorin slowly walked around the furnished house. It had a roomy dinning hall, a large room with chairs arranged in a semicircle around a cheerily burning fire, and stairs curved around the outside wall of the room to the bedrooms. When Thorin stepped onto the landing of the second floor, he raised his eyebrows, thirteen doors lead off the hall, six on each side and one at the end. Little wooden plaques hung on the doors, with the name of each member of his company emblazoned upon them.

He read the names as he past them and paused as he came to his own. It was the end room, and he slowly turned the handle. The room was large. A fourposter bed stood against the far wall, thick blue blankets were folded at the bottom and Thorin saw more purple ones, stacked inside the bottom of the wardrobe. As he turned to continue his exploration of the room, he saw a small folded paper laying at the desk. Walking across the room he gingerly picked it up. His name was written in a flourishing script, so he unfolded it and his eyebrows slowly rose;

_Thorin Oakenshield, Son of Thrain, son of Thror,_

_The Master has requested your presence, along with that of your companions',_

_at a public dinner. Wear your best garments, or if you do not have any-_

Thorin growled at the well hidden insult,

_-wear what will be provided for you. We will have maids come by to prepare_

_meals, and deliver appropriate attire at 8.00 _

_please have everyone up. _

_~L.o.F._

_P.S. Your escape from Thranduil's halls was ingenious. _

_However count your blessings for if I had made it there you would not be free._

Thorin's eyes narrowed; so the mysterious lady comes out of the shadows.

When he walked back down to the first floor, he found the rest of the company sitting around a table covered in food. Delicious aromas filled the air and Thorin took in a deep breath and smiled softly, they hadn't had fresh bread and roasted duck since leaving Rivendell.

Bombur was piling the food on his plate, and stuffing his pockets when he thought no one was watching. Fili and Kili were sitting and tossing food to each other. Thorin mildly wondered how Kili's wound was, but was soon drawn into the dinner conversations by Balin and Bilbo.

xXx

The next morning dawned sunny. A few white clouds floated across the azure sky, and a light breeze swept through the open window. Thorin had been up for maybe an hour by the time he finished waking his companions. Completed with his task, he had found a large comfortable chair and situated himself in it.

Quiet footsteps in the foyer immediately put the dwarf on guard, and he watched as three young maidens walked in carrying piles of clothes. Ignoring their refusal to knock, he stood and raised an eyebrow as one of them blushed a deep scarlet and dipped her head along with the other two.

The tallest of the three eyed him, then walked over to the blushing girl and pulled several articles of clothing from her arms. "These should work for you. Is everyone else in their room?" Thorin took the clothes and nodded silently, barely paying any mind to the three girls making their way up the stairs.

He quietly moved back to his room and shut the door as he stared at the clothes in his hands, they looked almost exactly like what he used to wear in Erebor. After pulling them on, he walked towards the mirror which hung on the door. The color of the tunic was the same shade of blue that he had always donned at diplomatic events. The britches were a dark blue, and a long black coat with fur lining finished the ensemble.

Thorin quickly exited his room and walked down the stairs. At the bottom, all the dwarves were decked out in a similar fashion, and Bilbo–Bilbo looked just as regal as any of them. A rare genuine smile flickered over Thorin's face as he watched the hobbit fidget with the hem of the dark red vest.

The maids had left, but Balin informed Thorin that the dinner was going to begin at the midday meal and progress well into the night. As the group made their way towards the Master's large house Thorin noticed the clouds slowly building in the west and were forming a large front. That was the last thought he gave to the clouds, for at that moment the doors to the hall were opened wide to reveal a crowded room.

The Master sat at a long table on one end and many other tables were scattered around the room. Two other chairs sat next to the balding fat man, and he stood with arms wide open as the room grew silent, "Welcome Thorin, King under the Mountain!" he proclaimed with a flourish of his flabby arms. Thorin inclined his head respectfully and they walked down the aisle that had formed from the parting of the people. The Master motioned for Thorin to sit next to him, and the same dark haired man from before sat on the other side.

The rest of his company made their way to the table and bowed one by one. Stating their name and title before moving to a nearby table. Thorin wondered if they had been directed to do such a thing, but his thoughts were silenced as the families of Lake-Town began to do the same thing. One after another they came, bowing respectfully and either giving their family name, or if they had no family, simply their name and title.

Thorin tired of trying to remember the names and watched them though heavily lidded eyes, giving polite smiles when it seemed necessary. Thus he was barely paying attention when Bard stepped forward and stated his name. However his attention was recaptured when the same cloaked figure he had seen before followed after them, and had almost evaded having to state a name. However the Master seemed to have other plans as his voice almost mockingly singled the figure out,

"Now now no need to hide. This is a formal event, we can all see each other, don't want any suspicious figures loitering about...And state your name to the King."

The person froze and turned to the man, "You know I have reasons for hiding my face my Lord." The voice was that of a woman's but had a soft rasp to it, not unpleasant but odd. Almost like the sound of deep chimes clanging in too strong a wind.

Despite her words the woman raised her hands to the cowl of her hood, It was then that Thorin realized she also was wearing a dark veil to cover the lower half of her face. As the hood fell back, hair the color of a dark red sunset with streaks of color like the stars was revealed, it hung and just dusted her shoulders, it was wavy and looked wind-swept. Dark brown eyes that could have passed for black stared out at Thorin from above the dark green veil.

The dwarven king's mouth opened and he stared at the woman before him. He could just make out the tip of a faint scar that began under her right eye. She was a stranger to him, yet he knew her.

"M-Malrin?"

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**Hope you enjoyed this chapter! also, I forgot to say that this will be the last chapter following the movies/books for a while.**

**Please tell me if you saw any grammar or time mistakes...or just give me a nice review? **

**Until later my little humans,**

**-Hel **


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey friends! I am so happy to have over 100 views, two follows, and one review! This chapter is short, but very important. **

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_**I know I can't take one more step towards you**_

_**'Cause all that's waiting is regret**_

**_Don't you know I'm not your ghost anymore_**

**_You lost the love I loved the most_**

**_~ Christina Perri 'Jar of Hearts'_**

* * *

"Malrin died long ago," Her dark eyes held sadness but Thorin detected a frosty undertone to her voice. He wasn't sure if it was directed to him or if it was directed to the memory. His brows furrowed as he realized what she had said. This woman looked almost exactly like the fire-haired Malrin, her hair was darker and the streaks of blonde were alien, but she had the same aura.

"Haedrin," she gave a curt bow and followed after Bard and his family. The remaining people stated their names and soon the room was ringing with the voices of happy, eating people. Unaware of the two people dwelling in memories from long ago.

xXx

TA 2770

Plains of white and black stretched out from the mountain, like pale fingers splayed out against the stone. Even though the day was bright and sunny, the ground was shrouded in shadow. Smoke rose from the last few fires that hadn't yet burned themselves out, and blotted out the cloudless sky.

A splash of red, the color of blood, stood out against the ashen landscape. This was where a group of figures were headed. Four wore the garments of a healer. Two had bows and swords; fighters. The last one was garbed in the finest clothes; a royal.

It was also the royal who was the first to reach the body on the ground. He knelt and rested his hand upon the figure's pulse. They had been walking amongst the bodies and fire for the past several hours, none of the dwarves they had found were alive, and the men of Dale had fled to a small group of houses on the lake.

"This one is alive!" he exclaimed, causing his companions to hurry to his side. The body was covered in blood, and was feverishly hot. He slid his arms under the figure's body and cradled the small form against his own. The healers nodded to him after checking to see if the survivor was likely to live through the night.

This was the first and only dwarven survivor. The tall figures began walking towards the refugee city, they had inspected every single body, and none and shown signs of life, except for this one.

The person carrying the dwarf looked down into the face of the limp body, the face was young, and even in pain a small smile graced her – for she was indeed female – parched lips.

The small group of homes, was made even smaller by the few human survivors camping along the river bank. The group made their way among the people toward a decent sized house. A young girl opened the door as soon as they reached it and they were all directed to one of the few empty cots. The family that lived in the home had turned it into a healing station, and wounded survivors lay upon the makeshift beds.

The man set her upon the bed as healers came with a basin of water and bandages. His pale hand brushed away the clumps of hair that clung to her bloodied face. A sponge was placed in his hand and he began washing away the blood and ash, from the three long cuts covered the right side of her face. The deepest of the three started between the inner corner of her eye and the bridge of her nose, it extended from her eyebrow, narrowly missing her eye, and down to her jawline. Minor burns covered the lower left portion of her face, deciding the cuts were more urgent, he stood to find some thread.

When he returned to her bedside, he was pleased – albeit _startled_ – to see someone had finished washing her face, and dressed her in a white cotton shift. A roll of bandages was laying upon the little table, and a wooden cup sat steaming next to it.

He carefully threaded the small needle with a wiry string. Beginning next to her eye he started the grueling task of sewing her torn flesh shut. After stitching the cuts he turned to the burns, they were not nearly as bad as his own, but it made him feel like a bond had been made between himself and the dwarven lady. A small jar of ointment was passed into his hand by a healer and he began spreading the green paste on her marred skin.

The sounds of the people outside were quieting as they got settled, found family, and in many cases shut themselves inside to grieve. The sun was just beginning to appear through the smoke and ash, and was lighting up the ground with its late afternoon rays. The tall man stood and opened the windows of the room with a flourish. Light fell across the walls and floor, sending beams of light onto the faces of the wounded.

The dwarf lady stirred in her sleep, her eyes beginning to move under her lids. He frowned, she was not yet supposed to wake, and if she did great pain would be upon her. Sighing, he began to trace his fingers over her burns, casting the same healing and concealing spells on her that had been used on him. Not aware that by doing so he was changing her life forever.

The day was drawing to a close, and silence hung over the refugee city like a thick cotton blanket. The sun had slowly made its decent into the west and was casting long shadows onto the barren ground where the stranger sat. His hard gaze was set upon the distant river that flowed into the lake. He had been sitting there for several hours by the time the sun finally disappeared over the horizon. No signs of movement came from the west, and with a long angry sigh the man stood, stretched his cramped muscles and made his way back to the house where the dwarven lady rested.

Her pale face was completely placid in her sleep, the flickering of her eyes – which had resumed soon after he had gone – seemed to be the only sign of life in her limp form. His gaze was pulled away from her as a loud unearthly roar filled the night air. Rushing to the window he froze as the great beast flew over the scorched ground, lifting the bodies of the fallen in his large claws. Smaug had come down from the mountain.

It seemed fate was against him, for it was that same moment that a confused moan was heard from the cot. He turned and stared down at the dwarven lady, a light sheen of sweat coated her brow. He approached her and began to sooth her face with a cloth he had dampened in water.

Her eyelids fluttered slowly open, and for the first time, the stranger found himself staring into the eyes of the dwarrowdam he had saved.

* * *

**As I said, short but important, I'm also thinking of changing the title/summary because this is probably going to be two stories and the titles I gave for this one kinda match the other idea better, however I will wait. Please review! It helps me find inspiration and gives me encouragement to continue. I promise next chapter will be longer, as I felt like this was an appropriate place to pause it.**

**Any if you have any questions, or if you notice any grammar/spelling issues please review! **

**-Hel**


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